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"Want something more to eat?" asked Colgara. "I'm starved." Without waiting for Lunzie's response, she turned and headed for the refreshment tables.

Lunzie followed in her wake. At least on this side of the room, people were sitting down at tables and she could see around. Then Lunzie was caught up by the ornate center arrangement on the nearest table, pink and red whorls surrounded by flowers and fruit. Surely it wasn't? But her nose confirmed that it was and some was uncooked. She glanced at Colgara. The girl had reached across and was filling her plate with the whorls. Didn't she know? Or was it deliberate insult? Slightly nauseated by such a blatant display, Lunzie fastidiously took a few slices of some yellowish fruit, more crackers, and moved away.

"Is it true you lightweights can't eat meat?" asked Colgara. Her tone held no hidden contempt, only curiosity. Lunzie wondered how to answer that one.

"It's a philosophical viewpoint," she said finally. Colgara, her mouth stuffed with what had to be slices of meat, looked confused. Lunzie sighed, and said "We don't think it's right to eat creatures that might be sentient."

Colgara looked even more confused as she chewed and swallowed. "But . . . but muskies aren't people. They're animals and not even smart ones. They^don't talk, or anything." She put another slice of meat into her mouth and talked through it. "Besides, we need the complex proteins. It's part of our adaptation."

Lunzie opened her mouth to say that any protein compound could be synthesized without the need to kill and eat sentient creatures, but realized it would do no good. She forced a smile. "My dear, it's a philosophical position, as I said. Enjoy your ... uh ... muskie."

She turned away and found herself face to face with a white-haired man whose great bulk had twisted with age, bringing his ma.s.sive face almost down to her level. For a moment she simply saw him as he was, exceptionally old for a heavyworlder in high-G conditions, someone of obvious intelligence and wit (for his eyes

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twinkled at her), and then her memory retrieved his younger face.

"Zebaral"

It was half joy and half shock. She had halfway wanted to find him, had not wanted to search the databases and find that he'd died while she slept, had not wanted to see what was now before her: a vigorous man aged to weakness. He smiled, the same warm smile.

"Lunzie! I saw your name on the list, and hardly dared believe it was you. And then there you were on the cameras! I had to come down and see you."

Conflicting thoughts cluttered her mind. She wanted to ask him what he'd done in the years she'd lost. She wanted to tell him all that had happened to her. But she had no time for a long, leisurely chat, even if he'd been able to join her. She was here with two missions already, and at the moment, she had to concentrate on Sa.s.sinak's needs.

"You're looking surprisingly . . . well ..." he was saying.

"Another forty-three years of coldsleep," said Lunzie, wondering why he didn't know already, when some of the heavyworlders certainly did. "And you, you look ..."

"Old," said Zebara, chuckling. "Don't try to flatter me, I'm lucky to be alive but I've changed a lot. It's been an interesting life and I wish we had time to discuss it." Lunzie looked a question at him and one of his heavy eyebrows went up. "You know we don't, dear girl. And yes, I can condescend to you because I have koed those forty-three years." He reached out and took the plate from her hand. "Come here."

Lunzie looked around, seeing only the same roomful of ma.s.sive bodies, none of the other lightweights in sight Across the serving table, one of the servants was *watching her with a smirk.

"Come on," said Zebara, with a touch of impatience. ?You don't really think I'm going to rape you."

She didn't, of course. But she wished she could find someone, a lightweight on the Team, to let them know ,*he was going with him. She managed not to flinch Zebara took her wrist and led her along the

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serving table toward the short end of the hall. The servant was still smirking, grinning openly finally, as Zebara led her through a double doorway into a wide, carpeted pa.s.sage. Here the crush was less, but still heavyworlder men and women walked by in both directions.

"Restrooms," said Zebara, still holding her wrist and leading her right along a side corridor, then left along another. He opened a door, and pulled Lunzie into a room lined with gla.s.s-fronted shelves. Broad, heavy couches cl.u.s.tered around a ma.s.sive gla.s.s-topped table. "Here! Sit down and we'll have a chat."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Lunzie began, as Zebara turned to look around the room, his eyelids drooping. He waved a hand, which she took as a signal for silence.

The couch was too deep for her comfort; her feet did not reach the floor if she relaxed against the backrest. She felt like a child in an adult's room. Zebara walked around the room slowly, obviously intent on something Lunzie could neither see nor hear. She could not relax while he was so tense. Finally he sighed, shrugged, and came to sit beside her.

"We must take the chance. If anyone comes, Lunzie, pretend to be struggling with me. They'll understand that. They know I was fond of you, that I considered you a 'pet' lightweight. That is their term for it.

"But ..."

"Don't argue that with me. We haven't time." He kept scanning the room. This close, Lunzie could recognize the slight tremor that age had imposed on him; she grieved for the man he had been. "I know about Ireta, though I didn't know beforehand, and couldn't have stopped it anyway. Please believe that."

"I do, of course. You aren't the kind ..."

"I don't know what land I am any more." That stopped her cold, not only the words but the deadly quiet tone of voice. "I am a heavyworlder, I am dying. Yes, within the year, they tell me, and nothing to be done. I've been luckier than most. My children and grandchildren are heavyworlders, who face the same constraints I do.

.; So while I agree that mutiny is wrong, and piracy is wrong, that we must not make enemies of all you lightweights, I wish the Federation would face facts about us. We are not dumb animals, just as you say that the subhuman animals that all once ate are not 'dumb animals.' How can I convince my children that they should watch their children starve, just to preserve the sensitivities, the 'philosophical viewpoint' of those who don't need meat but do want our strength to serve them?"

Shaken, Lunzie could only stare at him. She had been so sure, for so long, that Zebara was the best example of a good heavyworlder: trustworthy, idealistic, selfless. Had she been wrong?

v "You didn't mistake me," Zebara said, as if she'd >':. spoken aloud. Was her expression that obvious? But he I wasn't really looking at her; he was staring across the t.: room. "Back then, I was what you saw. I tried! You

can't know how hard, to change others to my view-^ point. But you don't know what else I've seen since, .

#. while you were sleeping the years away. I don't want 1 war, Lunzie, as much because my people would lose it

-;_ as because I think it is wrong." He sighed, heavily, and < patted="" her="" arm="" as="" a="" grandfather="" might="" pat="" a="" child.="" "and="" ^="" i="" don't="" like="" being="" that="" way.="" i="" don't="" like="" thinking="" that="" *'="">

"I'm sorry," said Lunzie. It was all she could think of.

* She had trusted Zebara; he had been a good man. If something had changed him, it must have been a powerful force. She let herself think it might have convinced her if she'd been exposed to it.

"No, I'm sorry," said Zebara, smiling directly at her Again. "I often wished to talk with you, share my feelings. You would have understood and helped me stay .true to my ideals. So here I've poisoned our meeting, a *,;*.; meeting I dreamed of, with my doubts and senile fears, Mid you're sitting there vibrating like a harpstring, afraid ^ of me. And no wonder. I always knew you were a brave woman, but to come to Diplo when you'd had such III vicious treatment from heavyworlders? That's incredi-fe, Lunzie."

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"You taught me that all heavyworlders were not alike," said Lunzie, managing a smile in return.

He mimed a flinch and grinned. "A palpable hit! My dear, if trusting me let you be hurt by others, I'm sorry indeed. But if you mean that it helped you gather courage to come here and help our people, after what you'd been through, I'm flattered." His face sobered. "But seriously, I need your help on something, and it may be dangerous."

"You need my help?"

"Yes, and that . . ."He suddenly lunged toward her, and flattened her to the couch.

"What!" His face smothered her. She beat a tattoo on his back. Behind her, she heard a chuckle.

"Good start, Zebara!" said someone she could not see. "But don't be too long. You'll miss the Governor's speech."

"Go away, Follard!" Zebara said, past her ear. "I'm busy and I don't care about the Governor's speech."

A snort of laughter. "Bedrooms upstairs, unless you're also working on blackmail."

Zebara looked up. Lunzie couldn't decide whether to scream or pretend acquiescence. "When I need advice, Follard, I'll ask for it."

"All right, all right; I'm going."

Lunzie heard the thump of the door closing and counted a careful five while Zebara sat back up.

"I'm glad you warned me! Or I'd be wondering why you wanted my help."

"I do." Zebara was tense, obviously worried. "Lunzie, we can't talk here, but we must talk. I do need your help and I need you to pretend your old affection for me.

"Here? For Follard's benefit?"

"Not his! This is important, for you and the Federation as well as for me. So, please, just act as if you ..." A loud clanging interrupted him. He muttered a curseword Lunzie had not heard in years, and stood up. "That does it. Someone's. .h.i.t the proximity alarm in the Governor's office and this place'll be swarming with police and internal security guards. Lunzie, you've got

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to trust me, at least for this. As we leave, lean on me. Act a little befuddled."

"I am."

"And then meet me tomorrow, when you're off work. Tell your colleagues it's for dinner with an old friend. Will you?"

"It won't be a lie," she replied with a wry smile.

Then he was pulling her up, his arms still stronger than hers. He put one around her shoulders, his fingers in her hair. She leaned back against him, trying to conquer a renaissant fear. At that moment the door opened, letting in a clamor from the alarm and two uniformed police. Lunzie hoped her expression was that of a woman surprised in a compromising position. She dared not look at Zebara.

But whatever he was, whoever he was in his own world, his name carried weight with the police, who merely checked his ID off on a handcomp and went on their way. Then Zebara led her back to the main hall where most of the guests were clumped at one end, with the lightweights in a smaller clump to one side. The other members of the medical team, Lunzie noticed, were first relieved to see her, then shocked. She was trying to look like someone struggling against infatuation, and she must be succeeding.

Zebara brought her up to that group, gave her a final hug, and murmured, "Tomorrow. Don't forget!" before giving her a nudge that sent her toward them.

"Well!" That almost simultaneous huff by two of the team members at once made Lunzie laugh. She couldn't help it.

"What's the alarm about?" she asked, fighting the laugh back down to her diaphragm where it belonged.

"Supposedly someone tried to break into the Governor's working office." Bias's voice was still primly disapproving. "Since you didn't show up at once, we were afraid you were involved." A pause, during which Lunzie almost asked why she would want to break into the Governor's office, then Bias continued. "I see you were involved, so to speak."

"Meow," said Lunzie. "I've told you about Zebara 86.

before. He saved my life, years ago, and even though it's been longer for him, I was glad to see him ..."

"We could tell." Lunzie had never suspected Bias of prudery, but the tone was still icily contemptuous. "I might remind you, Doctor, that we are here on a mission of medical research, not to reunite old lovers. Especially those who should have the common sense to realize how unsuited they are." The word unsuited caught Lunzie's funny bone and she almost laughed again. That showed in her face, for Bias glowered. "You might try to be professional!" he said, and turned away.